I Swear, I’m Still Alive

Let me start off by misquoting Twain and say, “The Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” I swear I’m still here. I’ve just been going through some personal issues lately and while I have been writing, (at least some, but not nearly as much as I would like) my social media efforts have been forced to take a back seat. Without going into too much detail I can tell you that while it’s not the most ideal situation, I have come to a solution so I can now get back to living my life. At least my trials and tribulations will make good story fodder. Right?

I have to admit something. Thanks to everything going on, I have broken my new year’s resolution. While I tried desperately, I haven’t written every day. Truth be told, I fell into a pit of depression over my situation and some days, it was all I could do to drag myself out of bed and go to my daily (well, nightly) job. Even when I was writing, most of it was unfit for human consumption.

Anyway, now that the worst is past, I can get back to the business at hand. I have two stories in need of editing. I’m hoping to have at least a few stories published in the next few months. As you can see, I’m back to being my usual over-optimistic self. It’s time to make this writing career a reality.

I’m afraid that’s about all I have for you today. I will ask all of you for a favor. Whatever your beliefs or lack thereof, please send good vibes my way. I could really use them right now. I promise you this, I will be back next week.



Desperate People

I recently came across a quote by Charles Bukowski.

“Writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers”.

It got me thinking, perhaps I’ve grown too comfortable. Maybe that’s why I get stuck so often. Have I grown so comfortable in my life that I no longer have anything important to say? Is that why even when the words are flowing reasonably well I sometimes feel like I’m just going through the motions?

Or perhaps I am still desperate after all. Perhaps the very fact that I’m so neurotic about the quality of my writing proves how desperate I am. Desperate for approval, desperate to leave something that will live on long after I’m gone. Most importantly, desperate to write something people want to read. I am realizing that these aren’t the ways a writer should be desperate.

I know that if I try to make my writing perfect I will never write a word. It’s the reason I get so frustrated and give up. The words sound so perfect in my head but when I try to put them on paper they all come out wrong. The beautiful thought I had is garbled and unrecognizable.

Maybe it’s time I started taking steps to make myself a little less comfortable. Comfort equals safety. Maybe it’s time to stop being so damned safe about everything I do. It’s time to take a risk or two. Even if I start small it will still give me that taste of fear I’m so desperately craving. Maybe it’s time to be daring and stop caring so damned much about what other people think.

The time has come to start pushing my babies out of the nest to see if they fly.